


Merry Smut-Mas: A Trikey tale.

by theotherdesanta



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Anal, Angry Sex, Christmas, Feels, Fingering, Graphic Sex, M/M, Oral, Probing, Trikey - Freeform, Violence, Why am I doing this?, candy cane, dont ask, kinda sad, rough sex with consent, who knows!, why me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 04:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8953441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theotherdesanta/pseuds/theotherdesanta
Summary: Trevor is going to get what he's always wanted for Christmas: The opportunity for closure and to give his best friend a concussion.





	1. The promise

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this part now, even though I'm about to write the second piece because my internet has been very on and off lately and if it dies before I can post even a scrap of this fic, I will just throw this computer at a frickin' window. 
> 
> Also, it's a fun tease. (Mawhaha) 
> 
> Anyways, Merry Christmas, I hope you guys are having a great time with your family and your fandoms, and to those in the gta v sweater club, ya'll just got a new member! Holla!  
> Yes, I know I'm lame, already got the memo. 
> 
> Okay, I'mma keep this brief so as always, I love you.  
> Follow me on instagram: Nervousnervouslevi.  
> Yes it's private but that's for safety reasons and the fact my sister keeps trying to look at it, anybody with a parent/guardian knows my pain. 
> 
> Finally, please remember to comment and leave kudos and any advice on how to better my fics. 
> 
> Well, dat's all, folks. Merry Christmas, happy holidays and I will see you guys (Markiplier voice), in the next installment, buh-bye!

_“I'll give yeh whatever you want for Christmas. Just name it” Those were his exact words as Trevor listened intently, perched tensely beside his retiree of a running buddy. “Just name it, Trevor. You want money? I got money”_

_Alas, a desire for wealth may have proven the easier alternative to that which the San An-Strangler craved most out of any of his wayward, delusional cum-stained fantasies._

_“You ain't got a-lotta faith in me these days and I get that, the fact is...I don't blame yah. But...lemme make this right” His partner's insistence made Trevor's determination to keep his idea for a Christmas present a private thought all the more bothersome to keep restrained._

_The one thing he knew was a definite from the human embodiment of a repulsive reptile would now and always be the thing Trevor could not obtain, not in this life, and doubtful to gain in the next, if their souls were pure enough to pass through and seek reincarnation in the first place._

_“I ain't gonna let you walk outta here, T. Not 'till you say what chu want from me. Anything. I'll make it happen” Then Michael furthered toying with his best friends strings by adding “I ain't gonna let chu down again”_

_Seven words was all it took to get Trevor's hackles on edge, his palms dripping in sweat and his brow crinkled from the strain he was enveloped in, battling the lump inside his stomach that decided to suddenly flop sideways and catch him off guard so he'd spill his guts, presumably inflicting the devastating blow to their splintered friendship and cause the rickety foundations they both stood upon to snap and tumble right then and there so Trevor would not have to see his hopes get thrown into the air and plummet back towards earth to crush him._

_There was a moment of silence for Trevor to mourn his resilience, but once that was done, he twisted his body to face Michael and stare him cold dead in the eye before slurring his request._

_“I want you. Alrite, I want your fat rotting slimy carcass for the entirety of this cunt of a holiday in my bed. I want you all wrapped up in a nice little bow, waiting for me to bend you over the fuckin' mattress and give your no good weasely ass a fucking concussion for all the Christmas's and other fucking no good consumer holidays that I had to spend thinking my best friend was six feet under! That is what I want for my present, but you and I both know you ain't gonna give it to me so I'm just gonna mosey on ho--”_

_“I am” Michael swallowed. “If that's what chu want, so be it. I'll head on over to Stop-an-Shop tomorrow and pick up some ribbon to apply on my way to your place. If that's what Trevor Philips wants, it's what he's gonna get”_

_“That's it?” The taller man argued, ready to start a fight because anger was the only emotion he could feel after the short spout of disbelief. “You're not going to talk me into something a little less invasive? Maybe some heavy petting and exploratory oral?”_

_“I'm done making you settle for less, Trevor. This year, it's about you” The genuine expression Michael De Santa used had his best friend going rigid, Trevor wanted to punch him square in the face right there in the middle of his living room, however imagining his untimely death brought on by Amanda hunting him down and cutting his throat for spilling blood on her new, silver reindeer rug, he chose to wait until the 25th to enact any violence._

_“Bet you'll change your tune when I tell yah that I ain't gonna wear a rubber” Any remnants of a quick smirk were hastily ripped off Trevor's face as he witnessed a nod of acceptance in response to his declaration, the curl fell from his lips as Michael shrugged off the impending doom that would come as another Sexually transmitted disease, one that'd most likely get him seen by various medical practitioners and handed a large tub of ointment to apply to his burning genitals._

_“What've I got to be afraid of? You'll be the idiot paying child support” With that, Michael lifted himself from the leather couch with a light chuckle, slapping T on the shoulder and throwing the guy a warm smile despite the fear building between his ribs at the knowledge he would be giving himself away this Christmas, enduring an entire day in the physical company of a monster so bitter and resentful Michael wasn't sure if he's lived to see the end of it._

_But, as he reminded himself, Trevor was his friend, if sex was his way of receiving closure then who was Michael to deny the chance of placing their friendship on sturdy ground?_

_One thing for sure...Michael was certainly going to convince his friend to wear a rubber. Pregnancy being a joke. The thought of an STD being a too real possibility_


	2. Merry Fuck-Mas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp...looks like what was meant to be two pages long became ten pages long...literally. I counted the pages. 
> 
> This is defo gonna be my last fic for 2016 as this was a Mo-fo to finish and I kept having eyes over my shoulder and it was just a damn mess. 
> 
> But I'm done. and I wish all of you a merry Christmas! 
> 
> Now Imma go back to bed as it's 4AM and i gotta be up in two hours. 
> 
> Byeeeeeeee.

December 24th: 23:47 PM. 

Thirteen minutes to Christmas and his present has come early, it lays on the front porch so instructed in Trevor's text to his employee Ron which he is currently reading as he sits on the floor clad in a ragged albino reindeer onesie, having waited there for some time before the notification blipped onto his cell. 

Hopping up he quirks a grin at the sight of the box rattling through the screen door, the person/gift struggling against their glitter-heavy binds from within.

Philips finds the heated, muffled yells leaking from the gift a pleasing swap to the echoing carols he has suffered through this past week, calmly he pushes the door open and struts through, making a beeline for the gigantic red ribbon holding the lid to the container. 

Slowly shifting his right arm, he brings it to what he deems the weakest part of the decoration and winds his fingers tightly around the red fabric, in one hard tug the beautifully tied bow comes loose and the entire box unfolds before his very eyes. 

In the very centre is Michael De Santa, Gagged and bound in the same sparkly red ribbon used to keep his prison together, his face is red from exertion and the sheer embarrassment of getting jumped and stripped by two rednecks on his way out of the store before getting his ass thrown into a box and shipped 3 hours to Sandy Shores. 

Loudly he recites a mental note to murder Ron and Wade for their part in this degrading affair. 

“You weren't kiddin', Sugar! My, My, ain't I a lucky boy, ah?” Looking up at the owner of the voice, Michael's eyes become wide and he realises the predicament he's gotten himself into. “You didn't need to go to all this trouble, but I do appreciate the effort! C'mere!” 

Bending double and snatching his best friend off the floor, Trev throws the larger man over his shoulder, giving him a hearty slap on the ass as he carries Michael across the threshold and into his trailer. 

Michael takes a few moments to shake off the initial trauma of getting bundled away and take notice of the gaudy Christmas lines stapled along the doorframe to Trevor's bedroom, a sheet of hanging beads replacing the actual door he got rid of months prior. 

He gulps at the sloppy bar-sign design of the letters spelling S.E.X flashing above the outer wall of T's bathroom, suddenly what he's about to go through hits home and Michael can't help but play out countless scenario's in which he knees Trevor in the balls and gets himself free before busting through that door and getting the first cab back to LS. 

Yet, Michael forces himself to breathe deep and repeat the notion telling him Trevor is his friend and he chose to follow on his promise, that he doesn't want to let down or hurt his one and only real friend down again, not now, and with any luck, not for a long, long while. 

He tries not to face the realisation that Ron and Wade have left him in nothing but his festive Santa Clause briefs where a small stitching of mistletoe is sewed to the back of his waistband telling all those within a close range to kiss the wearer's ass, knowing of the ideas it will place in Trevor's head the second he lays eyes on it. 

“Down yah go, Cutie” Speaking of Trevor, in the short time wasted plotting escape routes, the man has swiftly transported and lowered Michael onto his bed, hastily snapping his own body into a straight position to start tearing at his clothes as the alarm clock nears midnight. “Seeing as you're here, guess we should start Christmas with a bang, hmm?” 

Just the sentence gets Michael's nerves rattling, his eyes growing larger than they were before and now with a glassy sheen as he bares witness to Trevor's improved physique, his abdominal muscles toned and now visible rather by a small six pack, all those months running throughout the city doing back breaking work must've done the guy more good than Michael thought, not just for his wealth, but for his body. 

The minor twitch of his cock is smothered in a gross, noxious warmth as Trevor slips out of his onesie and shoves his knees into the bed, prowling the mattress like a fucking panther hunting its first big meal of the day. 

Michael doesn't notice, but his body is quivering, whether from the energy used struggling with Ron and Wade or the fact he was about to have his colon destroyed, he isn't sure which of those would zap his resources more, though it doesn't seem to matter now as Trevor kneels above him, grinning with eyes so bright he's certain if the lights went out he'd still see them.

The sick smile Trevor is wearing droops, only sporting half of its manic nature and his brow is furrowed in what he can assume is confusion. 

Michael's form jolts at the first touch of Trevor's hands gripping his shoulders, staring at him with such intensity he feels he could melt under it. 

Their eyes remain locked as the hand on Michael's left shoulder abandon's its post and glides over his peach-fuzzed chest, the older thief feels his stomach drop at the sensation of thick, calloused fingers sinking into his throat. 

Trevor continues to stare, silently gauging reactions from his best friend as he tests the waters of their physical union, he makes lightly, firm presses into the others flesh and listens to his breathing, watches his face through the gag and determines if he is really about to make good on his promise. 

Michael shuts his eyes, it's all he can do as he prepares to have the others full weight bear down and deprive him of oxygen, to struggle in his captures grasp before the inevitable occurs and he passes out, unable to consciously experience his own death, or more likely to be one hell of an assault on his person, one that may see him wheelchair wound or requires surgery to repair any damage done to his rectum. 

He's put his life and wellbeing in the hands of a fucking sadest. he's a fucking moron. 

“Mmmm” He feels the atmosphere change course and the warmth grow ever so bearable. “Merry Christmas to me” 

Trevor has come forward, putting his face just under Michael's skin and rubbing his nose into the stubble. 

He relaxes in a sense where his body is on high alert, yet his mind is free to leave the confines of its images of death and physical horror. 

Michael freezes as Trevor puffs hot breath into the nape of his neck, the other's body slack as he nuzzles his partner and dots slow butterfly kisses into his tanned skin, groaning before Trevor adds a long sweep of his tongue into the action.

The fat criminal again experiences the same twitch he did as Trevor first took off his clothes, he tries to convince the crucial high functioning area's of his mind that this is all for T, he gets no enjoyment out of any of this and to feel no judgement in helping prove to his best friend that they still share something other than a career going against authority. 

No response fills the empty spaces of his subconscious as Trevor twists a fist into Mike's hair and bites down hard on his collarbone, a sharp pain burns a path upon his chest and Michael grunts, automatically rutting against the feeling as his partner sucks the droplets of blood which have pierced the surface of his skin. 

Fuck it hurts, but Michael can get behind it, if only his fear could too. 

Still bound by his wrists and ankles, Mike has a difficult time moving his limbs to coincide with Trevor's relentless wriggling, trying to match the younger one's pace but to no avail, all he can do is lay there and let his stomach sputter in cold, nervous anticipation. 

Pulling back, he gets a full shot of just how much blood Trevor has drawn out of him, his lips and teeth are tinted a disgusting offset reddish white and T exaggerates his victory at making his partner bleed by swiping at his lips, then sucking his gums until the colour is gone. 

In a flash of deranged hunger Trevor grabs Michael by his forearms and flips him onto his belly, grumbling and growling, indifferent to the others whines of uncertainty and self-deprecation. 

“Hold still, Fatty. Just gotta free you up a bit” Out of the corner of his eye Michael spots the switch blade as Trevor whips it outta his pocket and winces as he brings it to his thigh, inhaling a pitched breath as the metal touches his flesh in its quest to slice away his briefs. 

Immediately Michael questions his sanity as to why he feels so inclined to keep Trevor as a friend anyways. 

“Kiss my ass?” He hears Trevor reading the words aloud. “Heh, be a pleasure” 

There's that sound, of his partners aroused groaning as he crawls off his knees and plants his mouth on the base of Mike's spine, pressing just a little into the soft spot before his tongue is darting out and tasting every inch of skin above Michael's ass. 

Flat against the mattress his erection is fastly becoming a problem, the increased blood flow of sexual arousal and genuine worry creating a combination that is wreaking havoc on Michael's body. 

Michael lets out a muffled “Ahhh, fuck you” as Trev's teeth nip at the side of his left buttock, drawing a hiss and another painful twinge that sends volts into his balls and all the way to the tight pink muscle Trevor is making a path towards. 

The younger man laughs, kissing an apology into his cheek as both hands start to knead and massage the pert flesh. 

This is unbelievably wrong in a number of ways and to let himself be treated like a blow-up door is something Mike has always been against, even during his days on the field, if there was funny business going on in the locker room, god knows he would be on the giving side of things, better to be caught stickin' it to his fellow player than having a cock and some ruppy's load in his throat. 

Of course, Michael was never found doing either of those things, not to a guy anyways.

Reminiscing as Trevor's tongue starts to lap at the crack of his ass, Michael can't remember a time he ever thought of just women on their own, whether it was fucking them, stealing them from his friends or just recruiting them for his prostitution racket, Mike can't recall a time he didn't think of doing the same sort of things with a man, he even considered adding a few to the racket to draw in female customers, but that quickly went south as T became involved in his life, and any to all males became his venture, not that Mike minded, well, sometimes. 

“He-Hey, no teeth, you fuckin' asshole” The retiree grunts into the ribbon, wriggling his ass away from T's mouth as he feels those gnashers at it again. 

“My Christmas, remember. Don't make me get physically with you, porkchop” Trevor says, a smile evident in his voice as he gives another loud, overexaggerated moan, parting Mike's cheeks and putting his tongue right on the puckered muscle, swirling it around as his fingers work the putty that is his friends inner thighs, inhaling the smell of him all the while getting a taste of what he's so long hankered for. 

Losing himself in his partner, Trevor holds the others face close enough to do a long line from his ass to the man's balls, flicking his tongue over the base and then returning to his post to slurp and suckle at the damp ring. 

He can already sense the tension in his tighty-whitety's so much they're beginning to cause him pain, but T ploughs through, too absorbed to worry about himself right now. 

Mike can't stop the shudder that comes with T's mouth violating him in the strangest, uncomfortable yet hottest way he's ever taken part in, he unconsciously tries to push his lower torso into the others face despite his restraints and has to hide his face in the dirty pillows to mask the small moan wanting to find a route out. 

Michael can feel his skin turning red, the fear making room for another dose of embarrassment as he realises he's enjoying this, Trevor's tongue on his ass and his hands working the flesh of his thighs like they're fuckin' putty. 

Tilting his hips upward, Michael is able to push his hands down so they meet the tip of his penis, like a teenager trying to figure the best course towards his first masturbation trial, Michael grazes them over the sensitive slit, having to occasionally move his face and inhale a large amount of cool air as his position stops him doing it on the side where Trevor can't see him. 

Just as Trevor picks up a pace with his tongue, Michael does the same, if not a sloppy variant which has him hard sooner than he'd like to be, but, if he's going to get his virginity taken, he might as well get a kick out of it, can't let T have all the fun, right. 

“AYE!” The meth head's voice booms somewhere behind him, followed by a something hitting his ass and leaving a fiery sting. “HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE 'UM, TUBS! THIS IS MY CHRISTMAS, REMEMBER?!” 

Michael buries his face away, groaning in defeat at the loss of wet heat on the ring of muscle. 

“We're only just gettin' started. Don't blow your load 'fore I get some. Fuckin' prick” 

“Says the one pump chump” Mike teases, his sass earns him the back of T's hand on his inner thigh, the sting is enough to have him baring his teeth from the sting enveloping his entire lower region. 

He disguises his mews of arousal by shifting on the mattress, praying the loud creaks are enough to cover them. 

They aren't. 

“Lets see how much of smart ass you are once I'm through” There's a hum, a hum Mike knows all too well in the years he's spent trailing his running buddy, through hell and high water that him is something he's always dreaded, and for good reason. 

The pressure of the bed suddenly changing and heavy footsteps drifting into the main body of the trailer, Michael uses the mere seconds to wonder where his friend is going, or more importantly, what he's going to search for. 

“FOUND IT!” Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. T's elated tone echoes throughout the home as he hurries back to his bedroom, he leaps from the doorway onto the bed and when Mike turns his head to see what he's retrieved his eyes are the size of dinner plates. 

In his left hand Trevor clutches a candy cane, a thick six inch long candy cane with a girth Michael considers just less than your average can of Soda, his entire being goes rock solid as T puts it down next to him and reaches over to flip Michael onto his back and pull him into a seated position. 

Trevor then guides him over his lap, keeping Mike up on his hands and knees, grabbing the candy cane Trev rips off the plastic and snaps apart Michael's gag before pressing the long end of the candy cane against his lips. 

“Suck it” At the command his mouth unexpectedly runs dry, Michael tries to shift back and sit down but Trevor's fingers are being pulled out of his own gaping maw and slid between his ass, now gently nudging his hole in an almost tempting manner. “Want me to touch your naughty bits? Then suck it, Fatso” 

Michael is practically seeing red as he allows the giant confection to enter his lips, he twists his tongue around the strawberry flavoured cane and closes his eyes to the sensation of Trevor's fingertips probing his asshole in time with the sporadic slurps. 

His thighs tremble when T pushes through right now to the second filthy knuckle, kissing Michael's spine and turning the candy cane in his mouth. “That's real nice, Mikey” 

The feeling of being stretched is cut in half by T's skill at working his finger in just the right spot, easing the digit in and then waiting a moment for him to adjust before moving his wrist and hitting Michael's prostate in what is a delicious assault on his entire nervous system, the electricity travels along the curve of his back and down again, dissolving into a warm blissful bubble in the pit of his belly, his toes curl as Trevor purposefully massages the bundle of nerves, delighting in how much more of the cane Michael swallows until he can no longer balance its girth and the dizziness muddying up his brain, gasping for air. 

Trev's own cock jumps in response to a steady line of precum from Michael oozing onto his bare leg, T decides now is perfect to stretch his lover out and see how well he adjusts to having something much larger inside that fat ass of his. 

Michael chokes as he removes the candy cane, a little trickle of pink goo poking at the corner of his lower lip which Trevor is quick to mop up with his clean hand, lapping at the sticky morsel as he reaches between the bed and the wall to pick up a small bottle of lube. 

He holds the cane between his teeth as he uses one hand to pry Michael open again, relishing the sight as the other hand pours in the lube, the other man unconsciously rutting backwards into Trevor's fingers. 

“Mmm, deep breath for me, Sugar” Without even telling Michael what's about to go in, Trevor aims the candy cane against his lover's hole and applies pressure, watching his body clench around the object as it pierces the barrier. 

Michael's eyes snap open at the intrusion and he has to force himself not to tighten around it, telling himself it'll make things go a lot slower if he decides to be a pussy about it. 

Faster than he can blink he registers that T's wrapped a hand around his dick and is building a steady rhythm which is thankfully dulling the burn of his hole being stretched wider than naturally meant to. “Did you just stick that ca-candy cane up my ass, T?” Michael half moans, head lulling back as the pain ebbs to the point of a small unpleasant throb, giving him the most out of T's skilled movements. 

“Whose askin'?” Philips's reply has Mike's lips curling, part ways between a smirk and a grin caused by laughter. 

“Whose askin' whose askin'?” 

The two share a chuckle right as Trevor pushes the cane further, drawing the air out of Michael's lungs as he tries to relax with the notion he's being fucked with a piece of oversized candy. “Fuckin' A...” 

Finally, his muscles release their vice-like hold and allow him and the object to move, he backs onto it, focusing his attention on the inviting fullness his body is welcomed with, and Trevor pushes, together they pull away and form their own rhythm, the receiver using their knees to lean forward and then the momentum rocking them back whilst the giver propels the object, inserting it to the edge of resistance and repeating the actions until the other party is sated. 

However, Trevor stops short of his lover's climax, removing the candy cane as he is about to wriggle again and tossing the thing onto the other side of the wall where neither can reach it. 

In the midst of his lost ecstasy, Michael is clueless to the other cutting away their underwear and getting into a comfortable position behind him. 

Like a cat, the hairs on the back of his neck shoot up as something moist and heavy slaps against his skin and Trevor lets out a sickeningly happy rumble from the depth of his chest, gently rubbing his swollen cock in the crook of Mike's ass. 

“Lets hope Porkchop didn't spoil his dinner with all that candy” The tone he uses to speak this comes across menacing rather than teasing, his fingers acting as spiders in the way they travel downwards, T's thumbs going between his friends asscheeks to part them and get a good glimpse at his prize, that fucking hum vibrates throughout his muscular frame and stops at his balls that are pressed firmly into his partners, it's almost frightening the amount of smug pleasure Trevor gets just by having the snake of a friend at his mercy. 

A chill freezes Michael into place, his internal defences going against everything he has religiously told himself not to do. 

Being violated with a damn candy cane isn't out of the ordinary when in the company of Blaine County's most wanted, and dare he admit the physical aspects of his own marriage have strayed far now and again, Amanda craving a change in the bedroom and talking of ideas to spice up their non-existent love life, showing her husband video's of pegging and role play, domination and submission on his end, Michael is no pure white saint, then again he isn't much of a sexual deviant either. 

They have affairs, he and Amanda occasionally try sharing sex toys, food in bed and even agree to an open marriage because their mutual lack of care to remain faithful is too huge a burden. 

Though he confirms a novelty candy cane wielded by someone other than his wife is quite the push from a finger or small butt plug the width of no more than a tube of lipstick. 

All things considered, Michael still thinks of that piece of himself as a virgin, no human phallus ever having penetrated his being up until this point, and ironically speaking, he is actually afraid to do this, understanding he will have been wiped of that slate utterly and completely by a man he has a conflicted partnership with. 

A man who will no doubt take their arrangement beyond the black and white lines of 'Closure' and wind up back at square 1, their lives doused in more confusion and resentment than ever before all because Michael wants to follow on a promise, to prove to Trevor he can be a good friend to him, even if it means what it is he wants will probably shatter the skeletal shell of that they have left. 

The physicality of it is having Michael realise what is at stake, he can walk away now and just live with the memories of a candy cane shoved deep into his colon and tell himself and everybody else that he was drunk, maybe bored and wanted something interesting to do to pass time, tell them it was a dare and he won, anything than say it was part of a deal to sleep with Trevor and blur the lines between his already distorted sexuality and the type of man people on the outside think he is. 

The off-colours are hard enough to see as it is, Michael knows if he allows Trevor to go along with his Christmas, there will be no more lines to avoid crossing, there will just be one constant sheet of black to mask the footprints that walk all over it. 

He can't do this. 

“Ey! What's this behind your ear” As though he is speaking to someone of lesser intelligence, Trevor snaps his fingers around his partner's ear and produces and condom, a vital piece of their agreement which he formally declared to refuse using. 

Michael looks over his shoulder and is surprised to see the result of the lame magic trick, he feels his limbs begin to thaw from the gesture the other has made, he is still off-put and fearful of their union but at the very least he won't be calling round for his local physician before the year is out, he is grateful for the little things at this moment. 

“Ready to get your stockin' filled, Sweetheart” Correction, Michael was grateful, now not so much. 

“Heh, fire up the sleigh” A wave of shame and degradation threatens to overwhelm his system as he gets an eye full of Trevor in all his disgusting, naked glory. 

His thighs are a sight to behold, as is most of Trevor, the huge forearms, the chiselled jaw and strong shoulders, those curves, god damn, if Michael wants a reason not to be out he has some pretty good ones right behind him, but then he catches the swollen, neglected thing dangling between his lovers legs and in a number of moments Mike's stomach churns from the anxiety. 

There is a knot in the pit of his abdomen and everything he knows his body can do is getting shoved in the cellar of his subconscious and locked behind a vault door. 

He can't breathe, the humid Sandy Shores breeze Michael has grown so accustomed to is quickly becoming too dense for him to inhale, he knows this is selfish, backing out is one hell of a knock but he's come this far, he's given Trevor enough of himself that to say no at the last hurdle should not be anything of an insult, and he wants the other to know he's trying, that he wants to be a good person and give him a Christmas better than the last nine Michael has missed out on, but fuck is he ready to bolt. 

The presence is shifting, manoeuvring the both of them until Michael is lying on a nest of badly arranged pillows and the other is looming dangerously on top of him, switch-blade back in hand, slicing the air in its wake as it comes to remove his bonds. 

The ribbon falls, showing off the marks left on Michael's wrists as his partner contorts his own body to cut the tie around Mike's ankles. 

The room feels less heavy, the humidity still present yet not so compact as before. 

Being free to flex and stretch his limbs and sore joints Michael coughs, wanting to open up space in his chest and take in as much oxygen as he possibly can. 

T watches, surveying his gift whilst the man sputters and tries to righten his breathing, closing both eyes in focus and sucking in a long waft of musty air. 

Trevor tells himself not to be impatient, they have the whole day ahead of them and if he's lucky, the rest of December should Amanda choose to stay with her mother and father to the new year, he has time, he has all the time to conquer his best friend, to punish and berate him for everything Trevor has suffered in the past holidays without him. 

“Did you mean it?” The question evacuated his throat without the conscious decision to speak. 

“Mean what? My promise, course I did, I'm here now ain't I?” Michael replies unevenly, a hand comfortingly placed on his chest. 

“What you said that day we chased that creepy TV host into the LS river” Trevor corrects, narrowing his eyes. “Were you gonna come back for me? After all the shit that went down...Were you gonna come lookin' if Davy hadn't told yah not to?”

The words lodge themselves somewhere Mike can't seem to get them out of, he lays awkwardly beneath Trevor, face red and small beads of sweat covering the two of them as they remain separated by mere inches, he wants to say yes, he wants to tell Trevor exactly what he wants to hear but the words just won't come out, not the way he needs them to. 

“I asked Lester to keep tabs on you, 'fore we left. I thought he'd shoot me an email or a letter but...he never did. I tried Dave a couple times and...all he had to tell was that you went off the grid, presumed you were food for the worms” 

“But I weren't. I was here, rottin' under the desert sun while you and your pro of a wife were livin' it up in the city. God only knows what I would'a done if I'd found out sooner that I was livin' just down the interstate from a walkin' corpse” 

“Probably would'a killed me, right. Taken my family hostage and raised them under your name, your way of seein' things. Or crawled into the dirt with me, left a note for the feds to read when they uncovered us in a tomb under your trailer? Maybe they'd find us in one'a them lovin' embraces” 

“There is nothin' to love about you, Mikey. Cept maybe your tits” 

“I respect that. Must've done a number in yah, thinkin' I was gone all those years...I'm sorry, Trev” 

They finally press their bodies into each other, Trevor keeping his head up using all the strength he can muster using his chest, but not as so to crush his partner. 

T inches his face uncomfortably close, enough to see the look of apology twinkling behind Michael's glassy blue eyes. 

“Why'd yah do it, Mikey? Why me, outta the whole crew? You could'a gotten alotta leverage handin' Lester over to those federal goons. What made me so fuckin' special?” 

“...Lester wasn't the second most violent offender in the country. Lester...also wasn't on their list of suspects in the Crawford case. Plus, the guy had buddies in their network, if I'd blabbed...he'd have sold me out just as quick. With you...it would've been like puttin' a dog to sleep” 

“So I'mma dog now” 

“It ain't like they gave me much of an option, T. It was you or me...and they were gonna take Amanda in too for bein' an accomplice. My kids would've wound up in the system, you know what it's like. Even if she'd have gotten out early there'd be no way'a tellin' she would've got them back, not with my notoriety hangin' over her head. I did what I had to. You of all people can understand wantin' to save my kids from a string of house hoppin'” 

“I do” 

“David...David wanted you off the streets. When he came to me about....bout puttin' you down I...” Michael is stuck on the image of standing at a steel table with David Norton at the other end, a map of their soon to be location splayed out with varies red circles and toy cops dotted all over the paper, the hold holding the sniper rifle eerily close to where he is told to bring the group through. “I asked him...to do so with mercy. One pop, through the head and no...no trouble. Be like...puttin' a dog to sleep...Cept this dog was my best friend. I asked him to kill you with mercy, so you went out on a high” 

“But it didn't go down that way, did it” Mike's tongue unravels as his former running buddy crawls on top of him, lying his head close to his on a neighbouring pillow and staring at him in a way that has him feeling like there's a dead weight about to come barreling down, it gives way to the unmistakable urge to sniff, the hot salty ache filling his eyes as sorrow and regret pools into his chest, it is getting hard to handle on his own. 

Michael sucks in his lower lip and wishes he'd just get this over with so they can go to sleep or Mike can lock himself in the bathroom and drown his problems in the shower, grubby and uninviting as it is. 

“No...it didn't. I ain't forgiven myself and neither have you. Lets not pretend things are even remotely fine between us” 

“Clearly, otherwise why'd you agree to fuck if not to soothe your own conscience?” 

“Maybe because I know this is what you want, and if it gets us on some sort of track, does it matter we come outta this more fucked up than we were before, long as we have some semblance of a mutual understanding?” 

“Not really. If it means I get you all to myself for the holidays, what's the problem?” 

“There isn't one” 

“Fine” 

“Fine” 

Without saying another word, Trevor stuffs a hand between them and grabs their cocks in what is a foul display of sexuality depravity, sticky and somehow a little slick for the remaining lube, he jerks the fleshy mass into a half hard state of arousal.  
Michael, having turned his head away gets his jaw clamped between the fingers of T's left hand as he's yanked to meet his partners heated gaze, now with the ability to move his own, Michael rests both palms on either of the taller males hips just as he squashes their mouths together in a searing, ass scented kiss. 

It isn't soft, but it isn't rough either, it's a combination of the two and something he can work towards mimicking. 

The way chapped lips smush against his and a wide, flat tongue attempts to squeeze through the gap to attack Mike's has the blood rushing to his ears, the loud pulsing swish deafening him to Trevor's groans and the nasty sounds he's purposefully making to throw him off. 

They're in a state of joint disapproval and angry warmth but fuck does it work for them if it speeds things up, all the better. 

“Fuckin'-- you need an invitation? Fuck me an quit tryin' to put it in my urethra, you sadist!” Michael snaps, yelling into Trevor's teeth as the man grins against his mouth. 

On cue, his ears pick up the sound of a wrapper crinkling as T onehandedly tries to apply the condom to his erection, failing to the point he lets out a growl and has to tear a hand away from Mike's face. 

Now with the contraceptive protecting the both of them from whatever it is T has floating around his genital area, he lines himself up between Michael's thighs and pushes the tip in, keeping a close eye on his partner as he lays beneath him, scowling from his mistreated cock which bobs atop his pooch of a tummy. 

“Santa's comin' to town, Baby” Trevor gasps, spots of white already messing up his vision. 

“An you call my one liners chees---awwww.....fuckkkkkk meeee” Michael's critique is fucked right out of him as T brings himself into the hilt, balls colliding against his lover's ass with a satisfying slap. 

“Oohhh boy! Someone's been doin' their squats. Ain't had an ass this tight since 1987” 

“Now that's a compliment to be proud of” Michael croaks, throwing a hand on the wooden board above him, knuckles instantly turning white in paler due to the vipor-strong grip he has. 

Trevor's sense are set alight as he basks in the tantalisingly tacky-wet orifice of his best friend, rolling his shoulders he does all he can to get even further inside, have his partner take as much of him as humanly capable as Trevor lets his upper torso fall, burying a sweat-drenched face into the nape of Michael's neck. 

He shudders, limbs threatening to go slack on him because of the impending orgasm wanting to tear through Trevor like a short hurricane. 

The serial killer arches his back and pulls out, almost all the way, he then locks his mouth over Michael's and gives a devastating thrust that he captures through their kiss, inhaling the concoction of a yelp and shout and swallowing it whole, letting the gratification spur him on. 

Trevor's can't mind their own business as they appear to gain a mind of their own, roaming the larger one's body from the curve of his shoulders to the dimples of his marbled back, they grope and massage a path all the way down to his ass before sliding across the terrain of his marvelous buttocks. 

In just five minutes the two of them can sense they're close and foolish believe they can fool the other into prolonging the physical act by faking misalignment or requiring more lube. 

They go with the latter, Trev scrambling to pull out and rummage through his bedside table as his crime buddy pretends to turn away from him, shoving a hand between his legs to grab the base of his own leaking cock and cut off the dire need to cum right here and now. 

It's a secret they share and one they'll take to the fucking grave if either male has anything to say about it. 

Trevor finds it, stashed under a collection of amputee porn magazines and a dishevelled teddy bear he's managed to fit inside the drawer, hastily the man leaps off the mattress to begin lathering up and all but forgets to pass any to the one who fucking asked for it in the first place. 

Michael chastises himself for daring to peek beyond his shoulder at the other, absentmindedly sliding a tongue over his abused lips at the scene about to unfold between them. 

“Like what cha see, Mikey-boy?” The underline smugness in the taller's voice catches him off guard, instead of averting his gaze Michael decides to meet it, locking onto the other man's amber orbs with a stern stare which appears to also contain a dash of impatience. 

The older thief doesn't answer, simply shrinks back as Trevor puts the bottle of lube away and then comes hard onto the mattress on all fours, quirking a grin as he advances in a manner that is mildly terrifying, to say the least. 

Michael kicks his legs in an effort to recoil away from him but they slip, the bedsheet too silky for him to get a purchase of.  
In the blink of an eye he is grabbed at the waist and tugged to the edge of the bed, Trevor kneeling in front of him and slowly rising until Michael's line of sight is perfect with his chest. 

The man looks up, leaning back as Trevor gnashes his teeth at him. 

There is cruel laughter as the meth head lifts Michael off the bed and whirls, smashing his spine into the wall, puffing a few hard grunts he succeeds in getting his legs off the ground, holding them aloft whilst his torso does the remainder of the work. 

“Now...About that concussion” A hand slithers up behind Michael's head and takes a fistful of hair as he hammers in a deep, catastrophic thrust, causing his lover to wince at the penetration. 

Play time is over, he recites this phrase mentally, De Santa's had his fun now it's time for karmic retribution. 

Trevor doesn't, and never has intended for tonight to go smoothly, to go anywhere but the Sandy Shores infirmary with the other in a wheelchair and his family having to return from their trip early to wonder how he got there with a broken spine and torn colon. 

He doesn't care what happens after tonight. 

He doesn't want to care. 

Michael has caused him so much grief over the years that a little payback is more than necessarily for the type of shit-head he is, there is no talking him out this, nobody can deprive Trevor Philips anymore. 

Unless that person is himself...

“Why does a fat snake like you gotta be such a good fuck? Huh, Mikey. Why can't you be as much of a disappointment with me as you are with the wife? Be easier...to get this over with” 

“No clue, T” Michael breathes out. “But I do apologise, never meant to...actually do somethin' right for once” 

“Bein' a good fuck don't make you right. It just makes yah a good fuck, makes yah worth their time, if for a second” 

“Second is where it cou---FUCK!” In the midst of their idle conversation, Trevor has taken advantage of the lack of focus, thrusting out and then forcing himself up and in with such intensity Michael's head hits the wall with a sickening crack. 

There are black spots in his vision now, Trevor's grip on his hair is nearing the stage where clumps start to rip from Mike's scalp and the searing white agony in the guy's back is ramping from a 2 to a fucking 15 on the medical scale, but for whatever reason he cannot get enough, of the suffering, of the punishment Trevor is inflicting on his ass and the brutality of their fucking, he can't stop the pressure building in his cock nor the throbbing pleasure from getting his prostate viciously carved at. 

Michael is dizzy, dizzy from the climax cascading through him like a volcano erupting under the fucking frozen waters of the arctic, the cold dread mixed with the fiery passion of knowing his final ounce of virginity is being stripped from him by the one other manic like himself. 

Michael hates it. 

He also loves it. 

The torture, ruthlessness of Trevor's movements as he reaches his own peak and chomps hard on Michael's shoulder as he ruts helpless into him. 

He listens to the furious growl as it dissolves into a pained, sad whine, the others breath rise in pitch and small mutterings affection hastily mumbled into his flesh as Trevor kisses and licks the crimson beads from him. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you” 

Still in the throes of his own pleasure Michael embraces his partner, still caught between him and the wall, he wraps both arms around Trevor's head and rests his own on the man's shoulder, linking his feet at the ankles around T's waist. 

“I love you too, and I'm sorry. I'm so fuckin' sorry I hurt you. You ain't a dog, T. You're my best fuckin' friend. Fuck I love you so much” 

Trevor feels the tears roll down his back as Michael clings to him, their naked bodies entwined as he stands with one hand now braced upon the wall for leverage. 

His eyes fall on the clock....1:34 AM. December 25th. 

“Merry Christmas, Mikey” 

“....Merry Christmas, Trev” 

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw and I literally just remembered this: I am also on Wattpad if anybody is interested. I'm planning on posting my work on there so if ya'll like or prefer wattpad i will post newer fics on there and here, and you can tell me what you think. It's got the same name as this so there's no real search involved. 
> 
> I'm tempted to write a new years trikey fic so tell me what you think and if you like that idea i shall go along and totally write that cus it's not like i have it stashed away already.  
> Totally didn't do that. 
> 
> BYE!
> 
> PS: it's 2017 now and I've un-privatised my instagram since it's basically made me invisible to everybody including friends who follow so it's open if ya'll wanna see my really shitty low grade trikey sim pics and bad selfies. Enjoy! Also I may be writing a crime dads fic in the next couple days so.....that too. *runs for life*


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